


One tiny little bullet

by talkingtothesky



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-12-12 03:28:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Gene Genie has walked away from many wars and lived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One tiny little bullet

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by basaltgrrl's [Gene!whump](http://lifein1973.livejournal.com/2353933.html) drawing.

He's supposed to be meeting an informant. He parks round the corner and strolls the short distance to their agreed location. He hasn't thought to bring any weapons with him, because he knows the guy, has received many cast-iron leads off him over the years. He hasn't told Tyler where he's going, because the DI's not his bloody nanny, and he'll just drink himself through the usual 'it's _procedure_ ' lecture later. 

 

He hears the retort before he feels the impact. A flock of birds take off from the rafters. He ducks and attempts to cover his head, but he's completely out in the open. There are too many empty windows where panes of glass should be for him to be able to tell for sure which direction. The shooter has disappeared from sight. The car's just round the corner. He can radio Phyllis.

 

It's only when he attempts to uncurl from his crouch that the shock wears off and he is hissing, pressing his hand down hard over it, instinctively afraid that vital things will fall out if he doesn't. He gets blood all over his fingers. It's hardly the first time. He ignores the way his legs are shaking and starts to move.

 

He makes it pretty bloody far, considering. In the relative safety of the alley, Cortina only so many thousand steps away, that's when his back hits the wall. As he does the impact jostles his ribcage, and his coat scrapes across the front of him. He carefully pries his hand away from his sticking shirt to pull back the coat. The Missus'll be complaining about the dry-cleaning bill again, no doubt. Warmth trickles down his belly. It's a new shirt, as well. Crisp and white. Just had to hit the one part of him not heavily fortified with hipflasks, didn't they. Missed the packet of fags in his top pocket, though. Thank heavens for small mercies. He thinks about fishing one out, but he's staring at the stain spreading bigger and bigger, realises he might not have time. That's also when he notices the ground is getting nearer. His arse hits the floor before he can convince his legs to work.

 

Then there's another gunshot, from further away this time. He expects a second wound to be ripped open somewhere on his body. He can't feel it, but that's the delayed reaction again. He curls up at the thought. One is more than enough to be getting on with, ta. He's knackered. It's time for pub. He needs to stand up again. The Gene Genie has walked away from many wars and lived. One tiny little bullet. He ought to find out why. He's so tired he can barely hold his eyes open, lets his hands drop to the concrete.

 

He thinks of the headline in tomorrow's paper. He thinks of Litton's smug face when he swans in and gets to take over Gene's department. He thinks of Sam, kneeling with a gun at his head, meeting his gaze through watery eyes, the hint of a smile at his lips. The utterly mad grin it had turned into, moments later. He's been to the brink of death with Sam before. This time he's going it alone.

 

"No." Hands on him. Gene manages to kick out. If they've come to claim him as their goddamn trophy... _"Gene."_

 

It takes an embarrassingly long time for his fogged mind to recognise the voice. He forces his eyelids open with great effort. With the hand Sam's not pressing against his chest, Gene waves vaguely in the direction of the courtyard. "Where...?"

 

"I've dealt with him." Gene feels...pride, hearing that. It's enough to quiet down some of the alarm bells ringing in his head.

 

Sam's talking again, rapidly. Gene's relieved to see he has a radio. Might still get away from this, after all. But the reality of what that entails is less appealing when Sam starts trying to move him. There's blood on his trousers, now. It's all extremely uncomfortable and he wants it to stop. He's confused that Sam is somehow able to take his weight, getting Gene's legs under him and lifting. And then he's walking, except Sam's doing most of the work. 

 

The Cortina's not that far away, after all.


End file.
